I Know the Pieces Fit
by whimsycality
Summary: Connor finally finds somewhere he belongs.
1. Who I Am

**Title: **I Know the Pieces Fit

**Summary: **FFA Response Connor/Joshua (Dark Angel) Non Romantic Pairing. Connor finally found somewhere he belonged.

**Rating: **FR13

**Disclaimer:** I do not own any of the characters or universes nor do I make any profit from them.

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_Who I Am_

Connor sat in a battered chair rescued from one of the worse off houses in Terminal City, and watched Joshua paint with an oddly peaceful expression on his face. Connor had never felt that he fit somewhere as well as he did here in this broken city, with these outcast people and this strangely childlike man whose wide canine eyes hid wisdom and depth beneath innocent twinkles.

They weren't demonic, as some acquaintances had accused, spouting words like Initiative and Adam and he should know better. Eventually they had been proven wrong and grudgingly left him alone, although he could see in their eyes that they wondered why he wasn't content with their fight, why he had to go find a new one. After all the Pulse hadn't affected the demons and they could always use more strangely long lived warriors.

They didn't understand that it was refreshing to be among people who were strong and fast and had soldier's reflexes, but who didn't have a mystical destiny, whose names had never been mentioned in a prophecy and never would be. People to whom he wasn't a reminder of past failures and dead friends.

Here he wasn't Steven Holtz or Connor Reilly or Angel's son; he was just one of the troops. Enhanced abilities and a hellish past were just part of the package in this community, even if his was a little more literal when it came to the hell part. But in the end did it matter who the torture and training had come from? Demons or just humans with empty souls? He didn't think so and neither did the few transgenics in the know about his true origins.

Joshua picked up one last can of paint, a red so dark it looked black until it shimmered the low light, and splashed it liberally across the canvas before giving a satisfied grunt and turning to smile toothily at Connor. He pointed to the painting and then to Connor, his smiled widening. "Is Connor."

The not quite young man who was never really a child studied the art made by a not quite man who was never really a child either, and after taking in the dark shadows and bold colors that made a strange kind of chaotic sense, nodded with a smile of his own. "It's Connor."


	2. Strangers in a Strange Land

_Strangers in a Strange World_

The first time he met Joshua it had been raining, as it was wont to do in Seattle, and he had been smiling despite the aching cold. This city with its teeming masses and angry mobs felt like freedom, and the fact that he hadn't felt a single demon or vampire pinging on his radar since he slipped past the sector cops made the miserable weather seem better than spring sunshine. No hellmouth, no Champions, no mystical destiny. Just humanity in all its forms, good and bad. It was perfection.

Then one of those angry mobs had come rushing past, chasing a tall man with a strangely dog like face that didn't feel demonic at all, and he had decided to interfere. Half a city and several broken bones later, and the dogman was helping him limp past chain link fences into the aptly named Terminal City.

He still tasted freedom amid the blood where he had bitten through his tongue, and ignored the strange looks that his bruised but cheerful grin was getting from the other residents. Joshua, he had learned his name between punches, introduced him to Max and after they determined that no, he was not a governmentally engineered soldier or the result of a millennia's worth of breeding by some cult, they had offered him a place to stay on the condition that he help with food and guarding and he had accepted with that same happy smile.

It had taken him weeks to convince them that he wasn't insane. That he was just used to fighting and conspiracies, and that to him their war was a nice change of pace. Some of them still gave him odd looks every now and then, especially if the word demon or magic fell off his tongue, but Joshua had become the best friend he'd never had and Max had loosened up after a while. Although he'd never live down the one time he accidentally called her Buffy when she surprised him in the middle of the night with an impromptu test cleverly disguised as a sneak attack.

When he wasn't helping with supply runs or delivering messages to Logan as one of the few barcode free members of their little resistance, he talked with Joshua for hours or just sat and watched him paint, canvas after canvas of brightly colored disasters flowing from his shaggy hands, all profit going to the cause and the ones who needed it the most despite Max and Alec's insistence that he should keep some for himself.

Regardless of the obvious differences, he felt a kinship with the hybrid who only wanted peace and who remained, in some ways, perpetually innocent despite his impressive capacity for violence and the many traumas of his life.

They hadn't asked to be brought into this world, or to be shoved to the side when they didn't meet expectations. Connor didn't wear his differences on the outside as Joshua did, but both of them were freaks in a freak society and both of them just wanted to belong.


	3. Blood Stained Memories

_Blood Stained Memories_

His heart pounded in his ears and he could taste his pulse on his tongue as he crouched behind the flimsy shelter and prayed the demon wouldn't notice him. The blood trickling down his side had increased to a flow and while he wasn't in danger of dying, yet, he would prefer a chance to heal before confronting the next enemy. Sudden pain shot through his good shoulder and he turned to see shiny black claws digging into his skin and reddened eyes looming over him. The feel of hot breath on his face increased the feelings of fear and rage and he lashed out, a sudden whimper indicating that his fist had hit its mark.

Whimper? Demons didn't whimper. His eyes reluctantly opened and saw a familiar cracked, dingy ceiling, his breathing slowing from its previous harsh pants. It had just been another nightmare.

But his hand was throbbing from the force of the punch he had thrown in the dream and turning his head he saw Joshua huddled against the wall, a bruise already fading on his arm. Cursing, Connor leapt off the mattress and hurried to his friend's side. "I'm sorry Josh, I didn't mean it."

"Bad dreams," the other man said sadly. "Connor was making unhappy noises; Joshua wanted to see if he was ok,ay you didn't mean to hurt."

Connor slumped against the wall next to him and gave a weak smile. "I'm okay Josh, just remembering." Ever since he returned to this dimension, in his dreams he was still Steven and back on Quor-Toth, fighting for bare survival. Now those memories blended with nightmares of Cordy, and the first time he realized he wasn't Connor Reilly, and the horrors after the Pulse with the chaos both humans and demons had caused. It made him glad that despite not having shark DNA he didn't need a whole lot of sleep.

Once that fact had kept him alive, now it just helped keep him sane.

"Are you hungry Joshua?" Connor asked, seeking a distraction from his thoughts.

"Joshua always hungry," the shaggy man replied enthusiastically, dragging Connor to his feet as they headed towards the mess. A real smile briefly illuminated his blue-grey eyes as he let himself be pulled along; at least here he wasn't making any new nightmares, and maybe, eventually, the old ones would fade away.


	4. Soldier, Survivor

**_Soldier, Survivor_**

Everyone here had been trained since birth to fight, and to kill. He admired their dedication and their precision, the way they kept up their training and constantly strove to better themselves despite no longer being forced to. But he too had been trained since birth to fight, and to kill. Only the consequences if he failed didn't involve punishment, it involved death by evisceration or dismemberment or something equally unpleasant.

It gave him an edge, the fact that he had literally fought for his life every single day until the age of eighteen. An edge that not all the transgenics recognized and an edge he had no qualms about displaying in the training sessions. Ever since he left Buffy's team and stopped fighting demons and other supernatural creatures, he hadn't come across an opponent that truly matched him in strength and speed. These fights were the closest he came to being able to really let loose.

Alec's forearm collided with his with a sharp crack and he grinned viciously as he dove for the ground, hand encircling the transgenic's ankle and yanking him to the floor in a painful tumble. The other man's speed ensured that he regained his feet a bare second later but Connor was already behind him, hands jutting forcefully into the small of his back and propelling him back to the cement.

The X-5's return lunge and strike grazed his jaw but Connor was able to knock him to the ground for a third time with a painful twist of the arm and an elbow to the temple. This time Alec chose to stay there and smirked at the gape jawed audience of relatively new recruits to their cause. "And this is why boys and girls, that we never assume that we are stronger or faster than our opponents."

Their unofficial leader had wandered in at some point and nodded her agreement as she stepped up to stand behind, adding a few words of her own while Connor repressed a snort. The transgenics that hadn't gone on missions with him or trained with him tended to see him as just a 'mere' human and he always enjoyed proving otherwise. It was kind of refreshing to be allowed to show his true nature in such a competitive fashion.

Max caught his gaze, her large dark eyes glinting and one eyebrow rising in a silent challenge and he grinned. Alec dove for the sidelines as their bodies collided, her's aiming high and Connor aiming low, thuds and grunts filling the air again. Who knew fighting could be so much fun when his life wasn't on the line?


	5. Defining Family

His path forked in this life, forked so many times that figuring it out took a decent understanding of physics and a working knowledge of the theory of alternate timelines. Call it fate, destiny, chance, whatever you may want, but he'd never been given a straight road to walk on. The prophesied son of two vampires, an impossibility from conception forward, meant to kill a powerful demon. But his destiny was rewritten before he was even born and it was filled with meddlers long after.

Between Sahjhan, Holtz, Jasmine, and his own father, it was amazing that he could claim sanity at all considering the multiple versions of himself floating around in his head. He never wanted a destiny, would never have asked for something so controlled and yet uncontrollable, but it came to him anyways and for the most part he failed to live up to everyone's expectations, including his own.

He liked to think that even without the inclusion of Connor Reilly's memories of what a normal life should be like, that he could have turned himself around and lost some of the rage that had consumed him since before he could talk. But what ifs were useless, even if you did know who to contact to make what if's into reality. He'd had enough people messing with his life.

Choosing to fight with Buffy and Dawn and their group rather than his father's when his memories returned had been the first time he'd truly felt he had control over his own life. Choosing to leave them, to come here, had been harder but even more satisfying. The fight no longer held meaning for him, the battle against darkness an empty duty equally well served by the Champions they already had. He wanted to make a difference, find a reason, that no one else in his life had predicted or chosen for him, and he found that in the rainy city, far from the closest bastion of traditional evil and full of more immediate human problems.

A pair of large arms wrapped around his shoulders, interrupting his reverie, and he tensed briefly before recognizing Joshua's scent and forcing himself to relax again. Physical affection was something he'd never be used to, but Dawn, and now Joshua, were exceptions to the rule.

"Stop hard thinking. Time for movie," Joshua said excitedly, his breath ruffling Connor's hair as he bodily picked him up from his hunched over position on a chair and deposited him on the couch, one arm still wrapped around him to enforce the no thinking rule. Connor laughed and relaxed into the hug while Joshua reached out with his other arm to turn on the small colored set. "Tonight is Wizard of Oz!"

There was no popcorn, but they had scrounged up some peanuts that they alternately snacked on and threw at each other while enjoying the musical escapades of Dorothy and her companions. When the wicked witch's dark green face first appeared on the screen Joshua suddenly turned to him with wide eyes, "Is she real?"

Connor pretended to consider it for a moment, his face serious as Joshua's expression grew increasingly frantic. Finally his lips twitched their way into a grin and he threw another peanut at the shaggy man with a chuckle. "That wicked witch isn't real and I promise to protect you from any others."

Joshua looked skeptical, or as skeptical as he could look, but gave Connor a gentle squeeze "Skinny fella protect Big fella. Big fella protect Connor too."

"That's right, we protect each other," Connor said contentedly and hugged him back before scooping up some peanuts and turning to face him with a wicked grin of his own. "But not from peanuts!"


End file.
